A CRITICISM
— Bauldie | 08/04/1901 —

I quite endorse the public verdict that the twenty-eighth final, played at Ibrox on Saturday between Hearts and Celts, was one of the finest ever played for the national trophy. It was, too, in spite of a day and gorund that were both against a class display, and it speaks volumes for the ability, the pluck, the determination, and the satimina of both teams, that they rose superior to the day and ground. This was specially true of the great Hearts, who, taking a grip of the game, the ground, and of the Celts right at the start, held all to the death, and the glory that now attaches to their most famous victory. Only once, and that in the most critical stage of the play, did Hearts seem to shake and palpitate. This was at ten minutes to go, when, drawing level with their stalwart opponents, the Celts all but had them beaten. Another goal at this telling and exciting period would have sealed the Hearts' fate and broken them, but the Hearts, though shaky, proved sound, and strong enough to beat off their tormentors; not only so, but, with an heroic effort — and one of the grandest I have seen since 1873 in these finals — the Hearts raised the siege and, masters Walker and Porteous, scampering up the field, beat M'Arthur fro a fourth, and, as it proved, a final time. As I like to be candid in criticism, I fancy the little Celt was rather nervous, especially when, in trying to save, he planted the ball at Davidson's feet, when that young, impulsive back stood facing him two yeards from the goal line. Davidson, fairly taken aback by the action of his keeper, could do naught else than he did, and play the ball into the net. There was, in all conscience, quite enough in the play of the Hearts to upset Celts without this unlooked-for incident contributing to such an undesirable thing.

In addition to M'Arthur's  lack of never, I thought Davidson and Battles also touched with this, especially as that Trojan, Cavalier-like young Heart Thomson bore down on them. If not of the artistic class of Walker, this stalwart centre played a very useful game. He was always on the move, and, as he takes some shifting, Dave Russell, best of Celts' defence, had a big handful to hold. It is most creditable to the old Heart that he, a veteran of 1891, should outshine a defence all on his own side, and be worthy of being coupled with D. Baird, another ninety-oner, and with Key, that little wonder, at right half, who was too bold for his inches. Celtic wore not so well served by any means at half-back by Orr, Lonie, and Russell as were the "Hert o' Herts" by Key, Buick, and Hogg. These three worked like piggers for this terrifie hour and a half, and put in an amount of telling tackling and kicking that kept the Celts at bay. Even when M'Mahon and Campbell plied all their arts to beat this grand trio in the last quarter of an hour they failed to do so, and this, considering the masterly power of the Celts pair, esteem the best compliment I can pay to the noble defenders from the capital. Lonie is young, but he lacks the grit and dournees of Hogg, the elasticity and mobility of beauty Buick, or the pluck and acrobatic agility of little "Nap" Key. Celts were too ponderous, not only in their half-back line, but in all their lines Baird, for neatness and judgment at back, was an easy first, and might on his fine display have been one of Scotland's defenders at the Palace. For versatility, modesty, and ability, he is, indeed, a great Heart, and I congratulate him on his additional Scottish badge. Allan was better than Davidson, because he risked less. Phillips, too, was almost as good and safe as M'Arthur. Still, he should keep to his goal more. Once near the finish he set Heart's large following a-palpitating as he ran out to save, and left his goal open to the itching Celts. 

Forward, Celts were too slow, too calculating, and too methodical. They had, it is true, one rousing run near the close, but it it apparent that age begins to tell its tale, and that Celts directorate, like Hearts, must early call upon younger, faster, and fresher men to serve them. This was illustrated notably by the service rendered by Quinn, who scored the second goal very cleverly. He has good good speed, pluck, and power, but might have got the ball more. Celts' trio, M'Mahon, Campbell, and Divers, lay too close together, with the result that the lengthy-limbed burst-'em-up Hearts burst 'em, and left 'em too. M'Oustra's first goal was a sparkling effort, and as such was equal to Thomson's in respect that it was very prettily, very easily, and very unexpectedly taken. The speed of the Hearts was very superior, Bell on their outside left leaving all behind in his greyhound bounds. Porteous, as in the tie v. Queen's Park at Tynecastle, was deadly at goal, and shows marked improvement in his play, a remark that also applies to Houston. The Hearts' style, their speed, power, and stamina all stood them, and although Celts might have drawn the tie, they themselves gracefully acknowledge the better team won the cup.

Walker was the man who most of all brought about this marvellous victory. As an artist on the ball, he is of the class of James M'Coll, of Renton, and of John Goodall. I can pay him no greater compliment, and all I wish for Scottish football is that he may long play to adorn it, both for his country and for his club's good name and fame. I regard the victory of Hearts as one that will do the game a power of good, and much as I sumpathise with Celts in their heavy losses of records and cups, still, consideration of this aspect of this wondrous final chastens the regret we all experience at their unlooked-for downfall. There is another aspect in which this final ought to be viewed, as that is the noble part that young Scotland played in it.

I do not think there is much fear of our country failing in the game so long as she has such sons to serve her. Of course, our talent selectors must in future be independet, and select players on ability considerations alone. Had this final been played previous to the English International, and had the selectors acted as we all wish they would, then a few more of the finalists would have been capped for their own honour and their country's also. I finish by expressing the hope that I may live to see many such a final as New Ibrox's first, and that all who played such a gallant part in it may do the same.